Woman, Wife, Mother, Friend
by Belphegor
Summary: A companion piece to "Bobby, Robert, Pauline and co.", this time with the focus on the mums. Short portraits of the women our Heroes might have married after the war.


**Author's note**: So, back in January I wrote a few drabbles about our Heroes' hypothetical kids in a story called _Bobby, Robert, Pauline and co._ and I thought that was it. As it transpires, I should have known better.

The plot bunny nibbled again later on, and this is the result. I've had this one since March or April, and somehow I never got around to posting it. Perhaps because new plot bunnies kept turning into stories, or because I feared the big bad old Mary Sue cloud of doom that loomed over _Bobby, Robert, Pauline and co._ … Anyway. This is a bit different, but I hope you like.

_Disclaimer: I own June, Diane, Anne and Evelyn, their histories and their lives, and some of the kids from _Bobby, Robert, Pauline and co_. make appearances. Andrew, James, Louis and Peter are CBS's._

* * *

**Woman, Wife, Mother, Friend**

_**June**_

Most people's first impression of June Carter is a cheerful, dimpled smile in the middle of a wild halo of frizzy red hair. She's a petite, curvy woman, who is getting slightly on the chubby side since the birth of her son. Since her husband is quite a bit taller than her, she has to stand on tiptoes while he leans in for a kiss, and their lips meet halfway. They step on each other's feet when they dance, because neither is a great dancer, and the dance usually ends in a fit of giggles more appropriate to a pair of silly teenagers than a middle-aged couple.

June loves life and the good things it has given her; the bad things she tries to push away from her mind, because it doesn't do a person any good to dwell on sad memories and gloomy thoughts, and most of the time she succeeds. She's always had a sunny disposition, and nothing – not mockery, not loss, not pain, not disappointment – has managed to truly and durably damage her optimism so far. Even after her parents severed ties with her and her family because Andrew wanted James Kinchloe to be Tom's godfather – which broke her heart, James being one of the sweetest, kindest men June knew, and her parents being the only two people she loved more than her Andrew and her Tom – she still kept soldiering on. After all, she reasons, happiness and optimism are well worth fighting for every day.

Everybody who knows June has seen her laugh; Andrew is the only person who has seen her cry. They draw strength from each other, and when one is feeling low, they can always count on the other to lift them up.

* * *

**_Diane_**

Diane Kinchloe is a proud, passionate woman; her love is fierce and all-encompassing. She might have mellowed a little with age, but she also gained experience in short, sharp-tongued reprimands and narrow-eyed glares. When Tony or the twins do something stupid or dangerous or just plain against the rules – it doesn't happen often, but kids will be kids – her black eyes flash, her voice drops down an octave, and whoever misbehaved immediately wishes for the world to stop to spare them the burning shame.

She used to be so angry when she was younger. It's easy to grow up angry when you come from a certain background – the kind normally associated with silver spoons on Sundays and a different dress for every day of the week – and people around you keep telling you you're worthless because your skin is the wrong colour. Diane lived and breathed anger; it was a flame that burned hot from the inside, keeping her warm even as her supposed peers surrounded her and her family with a wall of ice, invisible but as real and cold to her as reinforced concrete. She was aware she and her parents were lucky – so many people had it so much worse than them – but it didn't stop her from crying herself to sleep, and it didn't stop the bile rising in her throat when she read about lynchings in the South and bloody riots in the North.

Eventually, it was James who showed her that you didn't have to be angry to be strong. That pride was something you carried with you, not something you used to push good people away. That some people, no matter their differences, could actually be trusted.

And he makes her laugh. This strong, soft-spoken, gentle man regularly coaxes a laugh out of her, and she will always love him, if only for that.

* * *

**_Anne_**

Behind her serenely calm, collected exterior, Anne LeBeau burns bright and hot like the last stubborn embers of a fire. Over the years she has learned to hide her passions, her fears, her anger, her joys, and the war has a great part to play in that. The German occupation has changed her, in a few subtle ways, making her more self-restrained, slower to trust people. It has made her lonelier, too, because you were better off – safer – not confiding in the wrong people (and the wrong people could turn out to be _anyone_). She had two brothers, but Marcel was shot by the Nazis with a group of innocent people in retaliation for the sabotage of a convoy of ammunition; as for Antoine, he was deported to Germany for Compulsory Work Service and only reappeared about three months after the end of the war, a shadow of his former self.

She met Louis a month before Antoine came back; she had been standing in front of Marcel's grave, dry-eyed and silent, having cried herself out of tears over the past two years. He had been looking up old friends from before the war, and grief had caught up with him at his fourth consecutive cemetery. How they ended up laughing themselves silly over a cup of ersatz coffee a few hours later, neither of them knows to this day, but it felt natural, simple, and just plain good. And if there was a grim, desperate undertone to their laughter, both refrained from pointing it out.

Over the years, her husband's cooking has made her gain back the weight she lost during the Occupation – because her meagre salary was not enough for her not to feel hungry every single day – and, coupled with giving birth to three children, also added a few extra pounds. Anne doesn't mind, as she vastly prefers a few curves in the wrong places to the still vivid memory of everyday hunger pangs; and if the way Louis' eyes light up when he looks at her is anything to judge by, he doesn't mind, either.

She keeps his feet firmly on the ground; he keeps reminding her that passion is not necessarily a bad thing.

* * *

**_Evelyn_**

Evelyn Newkirk has always been quick – quick-tempered, quick-thinking, quick to react, quick to retort – and having a family of her own only made this particular trait even more prominent than it was. She has to be good at thinking on her feet with the two whirlwinds called Bobby and Jack, and when they're not keeping her on her toes, Peter is. He loves to tease her, and if she wasn't well aware that it's his peculiar way to show he cares she would reply a lot more sharply, or possibly take to chasing him around the flat armed with a skillet. Sometimes it gets awfully tempting; her sister-in-law Mavis says she actually did a few times when they were younger. Evelyn has no trouble at all believing her.

She's always been the grounded, down-to-earth sort, but as she grew up she learned the value of thinking quick and bouncing right back. Arthur Purvis and his horrid friends wolf-whistled as she passed? Grin and quip, and don't show them how embarrassed you are. Lost a job? Move on, you'll find another one. German bombs destroyed half the street? Keep your chin up, help people, cry later. Evelyn walks through life at a brisk pace; you never know what might catch up with you if you let your guard down.

It took Peter, his grin and his embrace for her to finally slow down and enjoy life once in a while: a cup of tea, a game of gin (which he taught her), a chapter of a good book. He's her husband, her best friend, her lover, her accomplice; they tease each other, smirk, laugh, scowl at each other, pretend to fight and then make up. Unsurprisingly, this is their favourite part.

Throughout her life, Evelyn has heard a lot about what marriage was supposed to be like; but nobody warned her that it might be _fun_.

* * *

I realised belatedly (once I embarked on Diane's part) that June Carter had a real life namesake (singer/songwriter June Carter Cash, whom I like very much); I tried giving her a different name, but she's such a sunny sort of character that nothing else fitted. Same with Anne; when I saw that the interpreter in dust on the wind's fantastic _Something to Remember Me By_ was called Anne-Marie, I tried other names, but couldn't find another. Ah well.

Notes:

Compulsory Work Service (Service du Travail Obligatoire, or STO) was "the forced enlistment and deportation" (Wikipedia) to Germany of about 650,000 French men in order to contribute to the German war effort. The Vichy government originally set it up as a voluntary service (for three men sent to work in Germany, one prisoner of war would be returned), but as there was not enough volunteers (a total of 400,000) Nazi Germany made it compulsory - the aforementioned 650,000 were not volunteers. It resulted in a lot of able-bodied men joining the Resistance, if only to avoid being drafted. The living conditions were not unlike those of prisoners of war, but with twelve-hours work days and one meal per day if you don't count coffee.

And in case you wandered, yes, Kinch was indeed Tom Carter's godfather, and a very loving one.

So once again I'm leaving poor Hogan out of the equation. But try as I may (and I did), I couldn't see him with a family. Don't worry, folks: in this version he is honorary uncle to nine girls and boys spread across Europe and the United States. And they never let him forget it – not that he would, anyway :o)


End file.
